


Devilless Details

by AkiRah



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Knights of the Fallen Empire Spoilers, Reunion Fic, Sith Pureblood, War on Iokath Spoilers, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:51:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiRah/pseuds/AkiRah
Summary: Approaching the same scene from two different directions, Malavai Quinn and Fallon Noicrothatch are reunited on Iokath.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time he compiles the psych profile Empress Acina wants it reads like a love letter. He details the minute expressions when she’s amused and when she’s annoyed. He describes the careful way she does her hair so it remains fashionable but practical. He pokes at the themes of her favorite Opera and the way she prefers her steak. He types slowly, trying to recall her weaknesses but losing the words amidst descriptions of her laughter, the way she tempers fury with mercy, her possessive, protective, nature. And there’s the only weakness that comes to mind, _when_ Fallon Noicrothatch loves, she loves intensely. He can’t bear to type that the easiest way to strike at her is from the side. Target Vette or Jaesa or Pierce (or himself) and Fallon will walk into a trap _knowing_ it’s a trap. He doesn’t think she’d trade her life for anyone, but it’s the only way to push her into recklessness. His attempt to kill her had (fortunately) failed, but he knows what he had done wrong. 

But the betrayal didn’t break her.   
Nothing breaks her. 

Her forgiveness had come slowly, but she _should_ have killed him. She was well within her rights to have killed him. 

She is molten rock, hot and fluid and impossible to pin in place. 

The second time he complies the psych profile Empress Acina writes it reads like a textbook. He details her fighting style, as best as he remembers, and her history. He points out the triggers to her rage and her approval in passionless detail. It’s a dry read, but it’s hopefully what Acina wants. He reads it twice and then edits, taking out what few points could be used against Fallon. He starts to put them back, it’s been six years, he erases them again. 

He watches from the distance as Fallon arrives in Dromund Kaas, his uniform pressed. She dresses casually, her long black jacket unbuttoned, showing off her exposed midriff as she walks. Black leather and crimson skin, a combination that he’s never seen rivaled. She pauses mid-step and scans the area, yellow eyes sharp and blazing. The woman at her side speaks and Fallon shakes her head, sparing a small sliver of a smile. Malavai starts to take a step and freezes. It’s been six years. 

It would be foolish to hope she still loved him.

Fallon folds her hands behind her back and Malavai takes a small step, hoping to just hear her voice. He watches her offer Lorman an unamused look, the sliver of a smile creeping onto her face as one of her attendants (a tall man in a red jacket) says something off-handed. Lorman looks ready to scream. 

He is working when Lorman enters his small office. “The Empress’s ship crashed, Major.” Lorman says, his chest puffing up with self-importance as Quinn salutes. “We believe both she and the Alliance Commander are dead.” 

Quinn keeps his features carefully neutral. Lorman reminds him of Broysc without the neural decay. Dangerous and with an unwarranted grudge. 

“I’ll take out a search party immediately.” Quinn volunteers. “Do we know _where_ they crashed.” 

“No.” Lorman shrugs. “The storm makes tracking the beacon difficult.” 

For one moment, Quinn entertains the idea of knocking the _minister’s_ teeth down his throat. He wants to rage _that’s my wife you twit,_ but she might not be any longer and she might be dead and if she returns he should be waiting for her. 

Lorman doesn’t return. Acina explains in acidic tones as she deals with his paltry few supporters that the Alliance Commander has returned to Odessen to handle Saresh’s coup. His chance is gone. She’s lost to him once more.

He compiles the psych profile a third time, and this time he sends it. He details her preferred fighting styles and the triggers to her anger and her pleasure. He explains in depth the Baras affair. He mentions her love of music. He leaves out anything that could hurt her. Fallon has always been loyal to the Empire, but that doesn’t mean Acina won’t seek to destroy her. 

When The Empress summons him, she looks bemused and a touch annoyed. She sets his report aside. “Not _quite_ what I asked for, Major Quinn.” 

“She was my wife, Empress.” Malavai folds his hands behind his back. “Unless you were particularly interested in the details of our relationship, I felt that was all you required to understand her.” 

Acina smiles at that. A sharp smile. He knows that he’ll be used against Fallon again if necessity arises. Even as he is, Acina can use him as a tether between Fallon and the Empire. 

But that was his role to begin with, and this time he knows where his priorities lie. 

Acina hands him the grenade herself, her orange eyes firm as she delivers the instructions. Should the Alliance forget their allies, he is to throw the flashbang and return to her side to resume their efforts to gain the superweapon. 

“Steady, Major Quinn,” she holds her head up high. “I doubt The Commander will be on Iokath herself. She’ll likely remain with her fleet, as both Malcom and I have done.” 

_Empress,_ Malavai thinks, _Fallon is an Empress._

And she _never_ hangs back with the Fleet. She loves the thrill of combat too much. She will trust no one to follow where she doesn’t lead. A hands-on ruler in every sense. 

“Yes, Empress.” He gives her a small bow. “It will be done.”


	2. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallon Noicrothatch, Empress of the Eternal Alliance, arrives on Iokath

She senses him the moment they close in on the Alliance Base Lana has set up on Iokath. Fallon is not one given to self-doubt, but her footsteps falter for a moment. She had been so accustomed to his presence that she could find him in a blizzard by thought alone, but it had been years. She’d thought he’d been killed, ripped from her in the five years she was imprisoned. It was the only reason she could think of that he’d been anywhere but at her side. 

Surely, he loved her as much as she loved him.

“Commander?” Theron says. 

Fallon looks up and tenses her jaw. “ _Empress_ when we’re in hostile territory, Shan,” she reminds him. “I’m fine, Theron, thank you.” 

“Sorry, _Empress._ ” 

Theron and Lana have earned, through hard work and dedication, the right to sass her. A right previously only held by Vette and Quinn. And only when she and Quinn were alone. 

She continues, her steps steady once more, towards the command post where Lana is waiting, feeling Quinn’s presence grow stronger with every step until she can almost feel his lips pressing to hers. 

The fury is there, building beneath her calm repose. It has been years and she was not subtle about her return. Whatever excuses he has to explain his absence from her side, she hopes they are at least _interesting_. She should have brought Pierce along. 

Still, the doubt remains. Iokath is unlike any world she’s encountered. There are technologies here that rival some of the Force’s mysteries. It wouldn’t be out of character for the strange metal world to seize upon the one chink in her armor (she will never call him a _weakness_ ) to unsteady her. 

If that’s what’s happening, she will rend the whole world in two. Malavai Quinn is the one weapon she will not forgive having turned against her. He was her passion and her fury, hiding a storm beneath his calm blue eyes. 

She recognizes his silhouette against the window and rage bubbles up inside her. How has he kept away so long? A minute fear whispers that he moved on in her absence, but she pushes it aside. Fallon brings her hands together in front of her and feels the wedding ring concealed beneath her glove. He is hers as she is his. If he has forgotten, she will remind him. 

She makes the attempt to give the frustrated Republic Captain her undivided attention, bemused to hear the thick Imperial accent that clearly marks Dorne as a traitor defector. She nearly comments that she met the father once some years ago, but thinks better of it. There’s very little to be gained in knocking an already unsteady pawn over. 

In her periphery though, she sees Quinn’s eyes fixed on her face. She waits until Dorne is finished before allowing herself the pleasure of taking in Quinn’s face. The years have been gentle with him and he looks so much like the man she lost. 

Unbidden rises the memory of their last kiss. Her hands feathering his cheeks to tilt his face to hers. Malavai’s mouth moving to a smile as he lets the undershirt fall to their bedroom floor in favor of wrapping an arm around her waist to steal a second kiss. “Be safe, my love.” 

The memory lingers like a ghost between them. Quinn’s mouth twitches, his eyes dart to her lips, but he remains still. 

“You’re looking as potent as ever, my Lord.” Quinn gives her a shallow bow. 

_My Lord,_ she can’t tell if he’s being respectful or distant. “Where have you been?” It comes out sharper than she had intended and she exhales and steps towards him. “I missed you.” 

“And I you,” his eyes cast aside. “I wonder, my lord, if we might hold off on any displays of affection until the immediate crisis is managed.”

She steps back and lets her eyes harden. “Very well, Captain. But I expect a full report on your whereabouts later.” 

“Of course, my lord.” He gives another minute bow. “And it’s Major now.” 

“Congratulations.” She turns her eyes off of his and onto the holoterminal.

* * *

“May I have a moment, my lord?” Quinn asks from a respectful distance away. 

Fallon turns from the window and looks at Lana and Theron. She gives a small nod and they nod in return before walking off to make plans for dealing with the newest problem. She folds her arms behind her back and waits for Quinn to approach her. “It’s been a long time, Quinn.” 

“It has.” He stands in front of her at parade rest, as though waiting for her rebuke. The distance between them gapes and all she wants is to tug him into her and break his stiffness to rubble. She wants those lips kiss-bruised and his hair tousled. She misses the flush of his skin and the way his eyes seem to spark when he’s surprised to blissfully out of breath. 

“Where were you?” 

“When you disappeared I spent months on the hunt,” Quinn said. “I knew you weren’t dead. Eventually Minister Lorman ordered me to call of my search. He wanted the ‘Emperor’s Wrath’ to remain missing.” Quinn’s eyes fell away. “I, naturally, refused. I was arrested and imprisoned for years. Empress Acina saw my value and had me released shortly before you assisted Minister Lorman’s . . . retirement.” 

“At least Acina has an eye for talent.” Fallon muses, keeping a lid on her blistering temper. She remembers Lorman, a weaselly, useless man. How much longer would his death have taken if she’d known he had her Malavai locked away. She would have killed him slowly, peeling his epidermis layer by layer with her lightsaber so the blood loss wouldn’t kill him before she was ready. “You remained in hiding.” 

Quinn actually drops her gaze. “I . . . tried to approach you once. When you visited Dromund Kaas to meet Empress Acina. But I lost my nerve.” He clears his throat. “I had worried, that, perhaps, you’d fallen out of love with me.” 

Fallon huffs a quiet laugh before she tugs her left glove off and touches her bare hand to Malavai’s cheek, ring pressed to the line of his jaw. “Oh, my Malavai. All of the stars will grow old and die before I fall out of love with you. I would have thought you _knew_ that.” 

His eyes go wide with shock and then soften as he cups her hand to hold it pressed to his cheek. He kisses her palm. “Forgive my tardiness, my lord.” 

She steps into him and kissed him hard, drawing a sigh from between his lips and returning it as he crushes her close. “There’s very little to forgive, my Husband.” She says, lips moving along his. “The war will wait til morning.”

His smile turns into a smirk, eyes bright and sparking. “As you command, my Empress.” He kisses her again, clinging to her without thought for decorum or the eyes watching them. Fallon sinks her sharp teeth into his lower lip and smiles when he gasps.


End file.
